


Drabbles

by rosastairs



Series: prompts [1]
Category: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, First Dates, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I word vomit fics because I'm emo, Kierarktina, Kitty - Freeform, Multi, basically anyone from the shadowhunter chronicles, heronstairs, i’ll just keep adding as I get more requests, jessa - Freeform, many different mini fics, random fics like I said, some are au some aren’t, sophideon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12654999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosastairs/pseuds/rosastairs
Summary: A collection of mini fics from my tumblr (all of the chapters are different ships/characters as by request from my followers)tumblr: emmarosales





	1. Kierarktina AU

“Are you kidding me?” Kieran punched Cristina’s arm as they drove down the narrow dirt road that led to his house.

  
Cristina often wondered why Kieran lived in a copse of trees about five miles away from town. He’d gotten enough money from his father when he’d been kicked out of his house, and he could have bought a comfortable mansion. The kind that came with floor to ceiling windows and electronic pads on the toilets.

  
Instead, from some inexplicable reason, Kieran had decided to buy a cabin and retreat to a place where no one in an expensive suit would come looking for him. Mark had confided in Cristina that that was the reason Kieran had decided to hide. Cristina understood, she’d spent her fair share of time running from people in suits.

  
Mark, who was sitting in the back seat, leaned between them. “Turn here.” He said, pointing one finger down a barely visible trail to the left. Cristina jerked the wheel of the sleek BMW and the car turned off the path to Kieran’s house.

  
Kieran placed his face in his hands. The nape of his neck vulnerably exposed. Cristina could tell he was working himself into a sulk.

  
“I don’t want to go on a stupid road trip.” He muttered. The grass on either side of the car rippled in a breeze from the north.

  
“It’s not a road trip.” Cristina said, running a hand through her dark hair. “The old pass is probably closed anyways.”

  
“Yeah!” Mark interjected. “So we’ll drive as far as we can and then try to find the pass on foot.”

  
Kieran shot them both poisonous looks that Mark and Cristina were immune to. He leaned against the door and stared determinedly out of the window.

  
Mark grinned and shifted towards Cristina. He was holding an old map that he had found in the library archives two weeks ago. He and Cristina had been planning this weekend ever since then.

  
Cristina remembered coming to Henrietta in a haze of whiskey doused pain. She’d been shot somewhere in Tennessee. She didn’t remember most of the journey, Emma’s face fading in and out and the back alley doctor that had stitched her wounds. The gas station that Emma had pulled over at and left Cristina. A long text message had informed Cristina that they were being followed and that Emma was leading their pursuers off the trail. No matter how many times Cristina called Emma’s cell there was no answer.

  
They would have met up in the next town. In the nearest pancake house to the interstate. Cristina waited two days before she saw the news: **_Daughter of Congressman Found Murdered in Tennessee._**

  
“Jesus that’s not far from here.” The waitress had said, handing Cristina her coffee. Cristina’s entire body had gone numb, her stitches throbbing.

  
She’d hitchhiked to Virginia. Staying just drunk enough that it numbed her wounds, but not too drunk, she didn’t want to be caught off guard by a trucker who thought he could get his way with her.

  
Somehow she’d found Henrietta. The town had captivated her in its’ quiet. _This is a place where time stands still._ So Cristina had stayed, looking over her shoulder at every turn, looking for her mother’s men.

  
She hadn’t expected to make friends. But on her first day of school a pretty blond boy had sat down at her otherwise empty lunch table. She’d liked his smile so she’d listened to him talk, watching the way his mouth formed vowels and the way his hair curled over his ears.

  
His name was Mark, and not ten minutes after he sat down his boyfriend Kieran had sat down with Cristina as well.

  
Kieran was sulky and gorgeous. His hair was dyed in a spectrum of blue. Cristina had long ago mastered watching people, so she was surprised when she got the feeling that Kieran was watching back.

  
Friends seemed trivial after Emma’s death. Cristina kept reminding herself that she would have to leave eventually, but it was hard to think about the future when she was stargazing in the bed of Mark’s shitty truck.

  
Days blurred into weeks and weeks blurred into months. There was the time she’d first kissed Mark, in the kitchen after they’d put his siblings to bed. There was the school dance, when she’d danced with Mark and then with Kieran. She remembered Kieran’s lips on hers after he’d told her about his father and the brother who was too fond of knives.

  
Mark had told Cristina that Kieran fell into self destructive habits around his birthday. Last year he’d ended up in the hospital after jumping off the school on a dare. So now here she was, dragging Kieran into a hopefully distracting adventure.

  
The mountains foothills were dotted with small shrubs. The grey peak of the mountain itself was blanketed in clouds.   
Cristina drove the car until she couldn’t anymore. The narrow road had tapered off and vanished at a worn metal gate, one the government had once put up and then forgotten.

  
Mark opened the back door and bounced out of the car before Cristina parked. He threw open the trunk and tossed a heavy backpack to Cristina when she joined him. Mark was still holding the worn map. Kieran was still in the car.

  
He only got out of the car when Mark and Cristina started towards the gate without looking back. Kieran would follow, for all his sulking he wouldn’t let them go on a potentially dangerous journey, not without him.

  
Mark handed Kieran’s pack to him as they climbed over the gate. The old pass wound up the slope, overgrown with wildflowers. The air smelled like wind that came down from peaks covered in ice and pine trees.

  
Cristina leaned back, the sun warming her face. Kieran and Mark were walking in front of her. _This can’t last._ She thought. She would have to run eventually, she would have to change her name and run. She would have to leave Mark and Kieran and they would never know what happened to her.

  
She shook herself. Today was not the day for this. Today was a day for adventure.   
She adjusted her backpack and jogged to catch up, she laced her hands through theirs and squeezed. _For now._


	2. Kitty ANGST

The Elapid demon reared up, yellow venom dripping from it’s fangs. The corpse like stench the demon gave off was so strong it made Ty take a step back. He blinked, trying to steel himself for the next blow.

  
He and Kit had been sent out to dispatch the demon. On the drive to the abandoned warehouse Kit had joked that the demon wouldn’t know what hit it. He had had his sneakers up on the dashboard and the window had been down, the wind rushing past and making his golden hair unruly. Ty had felt like nothing could stop them, especially not one minor demon.

  
Except now he was hiding behind a crate, leaning against it and trying to think past the pain in his shoulder. _Breathe_. He told himself. The wound throbbed again, hot lances of pain from where the demon had clawed him travelling up his arm. _At least it didn’t bite me._ He thought, gripping his seraph blade tighter and risking a glance around the corner of the crate.

  
Kit was locked in battle with the demon. As Ty watched Kit hurled himself under the demon’s leg and slashed with his seraph blade. The demon shrieked and ichor sprayed down on Kit. He gave a yell and ducked away from the demon’s claws. The ichor was burning him. Ty could see it from the way Kit ran to another crate, jerkily trying to wipe the ichor from his face and blinking in pain. The entire scene seemed incongruous to the classical music playing over it.

  
Ty’s shoulder throbbed again. Stars danced in front of his eyes. _You’re not going to black out from a little scratch._ He told himself angrily, focusing on the demon again.

  
The demon was prowling close to the crate that Kit had ducked behind. Ty doubted Kit would be able to fend off another attack. Unless Ty could get to the demon undetected, Kit was done for. _No you’re not thinking about that **ever**_ , Ty reminded himself. Kit wasn’t going to die. Kit couldn’t die. Not after Livvy- He shoved any thought of Livvy deep down, thinking about her now would only get him killed. Ty scanned his surroundings, a plan slowly coming to light in his mind. He tucked his seraph blade into his belt and began to climb.

  
He ran along the tops of the crates lightly. The demon was chasing Kit through the maze of crates, Ty could see it’s jointed body turning as it hunted. He willed his legs to run faster, the soles of his boots pounding soundlessly on the crates. He could hear his heart beat in his ears. A constant thrum of _you’retoolateyou’retoolateyou’retoolate_.

  
Somewhere up ahead he saw the demon lunge. Before he knew what he was doing Ty snatched two knifes from his belt and threw them as hard as he could. The demon screamed and turned faster than Ty thought was possible. Before he could react the demon scurried up the side of the crate and sank it’s teeth into his shoulder.

  
From somewhere far away Ty heard himself scream. The pain tore through him, ripping from head to toe. The room spun and Ty was rolling off of the crate with the demon still attached to him. His headphones tore free and a sudden burst of noise clashed into his ears. He could hear the demon snarling and Kit’s terrified enraged scream, but he could also hear the tearing of his own flesh, and the scrape of the demon’s talons on the concrete floor, and the sizzle of venom as it dripped onto his skin. It was too much.

  
His hands had found their way to his seraph blade. Through the pain and the panicked haze he muttered, “ _Ithuriel_.” The blade blazed to life and Ty drove it through the demon’s chest, where a heart would have been if it had been human.

  
Black ichor exploded onto him, burning and twisting daggers of pain into him. The demon gave a dying wail and dissipated, leaving nothing but ichor.

  
Ty lay there in a daze. He could hear Kit running towards him and he dimly registered Kit pulling his head into his lap. _How romantic._ He thought, and giggled in terror. The room was spinning out of focus, Kit’s breathing was harsh and the sound scraped in Ty’s ears. He gripped the front of Kit’s shirt with one hand, wrapping the ichor soaked fabric around his fingers. Anything to ground him, before he went spinning out of control.

  
Kit was fumbling with his phone. Burns trailed up his arm. Ty knew he was terrified. Kit’s eyes were wide and haunted, the blue startling against the bloody burns.

  
“Ty, Ty, stay with me. Okay?” Kit murmured. “Ty?”

  
Ty began slipping in and out of consciousness. He saw glimpses of Kit, his hair, the back of his neck when he lifted Ty to get him in the car. He saw the night sky, dimly wondered how much time had passed in the warehouse. He slipped into dreams, where he watched Livvy die again and again. Sometimes it was Kit on the mortal sword, Ty couldn’t save them.

  
Somewhere between LA and the Institute he jerked awake in pain. Kit was driving, his face grim and his eyes set on the road. Ty fumbled for words when the pain was threatening to drag him back into unconsciousness.

  
“Do you think I’m dying?” his mouth felt like sawdust. Kit placed a gentle hand on his arm and Ty cried out, pain blinding him as he fell into dreams, the stars spinning in circles around his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering yes Ty did die (sorry)


	3. Haline Hurt/Comfort

“Everything’s fine here.” Julian’s voice filtered through the line. The same phrase repeated over and over throughout the years. If Helen didn’t know her brother, she might have believed him. Maybe it was because she’d listened to him lie before, when Emma did something reckless and Julian covered for her, or when Andrew Blackthorn had found stolen paintbrushes wedged under his mattress. She knew the change in his tone meant he was lying, but she didn’t understand why he was lying to her. She was locked on an island for god’s sake, what could she do?

  
“You sure?” she asked. There was a pause, then Julian took a breath.

  
“Yeah everything’s great! Everyone misses you obviously, but we’re good!” He sounded so convincing. Was he learning to be a better liar? _Or maybe you’ve just been gone so long you don’t really know him anymore._ She thought miserably. Would Tavvy even recognize her? It’d been five years and he’d been a baby the last time she’d seen him. She didn’t really know her siblings. How could she? Skype calls didn’t make up for long days or family dinners.

  
The phone went dead. The allotted call time had been reached and surpassed. Helen threw it on the desk in frustration feeling tears well beneath her eyelids. She pressed her palms to her eyes, willing the tears away. The wind howled outside the walls of their cabin. When she had first arrived she’d thought the wind would stop at some point, but it had just kept howling insistently.

  
She’d grown up in LA, in the burning sun, the hot wind, and the occasional salt smelling breeze off the ocean. She was used to the heat. Wrangel Island was cold and dead. It had taken only a week before the cold crept into her bones and stayed there, like a permanent ache.

  
She crawled into the fur covers on the bed. She shivered. _You’ll never get out of here,_ That small insistent voice nagged. _You’re going to die here and you’re condemning Aline to die with you because faeries use love as a weapon and that’s what you are._ Helen began to cry. Small sobs wracked her body as the wind howled in an unrelenting chorus.

  
The door to the cabin banged open and Aline marched in, dumping her bag on the ground and latching the door behind her, blocking out the storm. She took her jacket off and groaned, stretching her arms above her head. Helen burrowed farther into the blankets, turning away so Aline couldn’t see her tear stained face. _The least you can do is be strong for her._ She thought, as she listened to Aline get ready for bed.

  
“None of the sensors were broken, thank god.” Aline said. Helen could hear her pulling on her pajamas. “I don’t think I could have stayed out there much longer without freezing my ass off.” She climbed into bed and Helen moved closer to her, trying to warm her toes.

  
Aline laughed. “I knew you weren’t asleep!” She turned Helen towards her and froze. Helen watched Aline take in her puffy eyes and runny nose. Aline’s dark hair was splayed on her pillow and Helen had the sudden urge to bury her hands in it and feel the smooth strands slide through her fingers.

  
“Baby you okay?” Aline asked and wrapped her arms around her, burying her face in Helen’s hair.

  
Helen began to cry. She didn’t need to explain to Aline because Aline knew. Knew from countless nights spent whispering their greatest fears back and forth over pillows. Knew from watching Helen after a phone call with Julian, or a Skype call where her siblings asked her when she would be back.

  
Helen’s tears pooled on Aline’s chest and she could Aline’s heart beating under her cheek, a steady constant beat that grounded her when she was floating. She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself.

  
“I love you, you know that?” Helen whispered, not wanting to break the quiet.

  
“You’d be a fool not to.” Aline chuckled, her breath stirring Helen’s hair. Helen swatted her with her free arm, giggling as Aline let out an indignant yelp.

  
Aline pulled her closer, and Helen twined their fingers together.

  
“I love you too.” Aline murmured as the wind gusted outside and the snow fell in a thicker blanket over their prison.


	4. Kit finds out Livvy’s dead

Kit ran through the tastefully furnished halls. His shoes made muffled thumps against the carpet as he ran. As he passed a window he caught a glimpse of the glass towers through the glass. Alicante felt like home, and every time he saw the glass city or breathed in the somehow distinct Idris air, he was reminded of what he had always been meant to be.

  
Alec had left not ten minutes ago. He’d ran past Kit without even bothering to show him back. Now Kit was hopelessly lost. He hadn’t wanted to leave Magnus, but he wanted to be with the Blackthorns as they faced down the Cohort.

  
Kit ran past a marble bust of Jace that he was sure he’d passed at least twice before. _Honestly the bust isn’t even a good likeness._ He thought as he made a left and hurtled down another corridor.

  
His breath was coming a short bursts, another reminder that he wasn’t in prime shadowhunting condition. _Too much comic books and not enough actual exercise._ He managed to think as his heart pounded painfully with exertion.

  
As he passed an unfamiliar stairwell he heard shouts and the sound of a sword being sheathed. The initial fighting must be over at least. Now they just had to get away with Annabel safely. Kit leaned against the banister, trying to catch his breath.

  
There were angry screams coming from below. Kit dimly wondered if the Cohort was trying to make it worse than it already was. He took in another rattling breath. _Is that the smell of blood?_

  
A tight panic gripped him. _It’s probably nothing._ He told himself. _All those swords means someone gets cut once in a while, blood doesn’t mean death._ Stealing himself he lurched down the flight of stairs.

  
The sight that greeted him when he stepped into the council hall was like stepping into a dream.

  
Zara’s father seemed to be yelling at Jia Penhallow while the rest of the Cohort shouted accusations. Kit saw Alec standing behind Jia with his arms crossed. Alec’s shirt was soaked with blood. Kit choked, he could see Robert Lightwood’s body sprawled on the floor. His blood staining the white marble in a horrid puddle. Alec’s eyes looked particularly shiny, the grief hadn’t quite settled in and Kit could see the first stages of numb disbelief.

  
Kit scanned the room for the Blackthorns. He saw a woman with glossy black hair hurrying towards him. Aline. He remembered. He started towards her and she grabbed his arm, trying to lead him back out the way he’d come.

  
“Where’re the Blackthorns?” He asked. His voice sounded strangely far away.  
Aline gave him an attempt at a smile. She looked exhausted and terribly sad. “In another room.” She sighed, there was more to be said, but Aline didn’t seem eager to speak.

  
“Are they okay?” Kit asked as he followed Aline out into the hall. She set a brisk pace and he had to jog to keep up. “Livvy and Ty were going to show me around the city.” _Yes they’re going to show you around the city after Robert Lightwood was just murdered. Good plan Kit._ He thought.

  
Maybe they still would and Livvy would buy them donuts at some shadowhunter coffee shop. _Do shadowhunters even have coffee shops?_ Kit would kill for a donut right now.

  
Aline stopped in front of a heavy looking door. She squared her shoulders before throwing a sorrowful glance at Kit. She touched him briefly on the arm before throwing the door open.

  
“Hey guys!” Kit said, grinning in relief as he saw Mark and a woman who must be Helen, Marks’ full sister. They had the same pale blonde hair. Cristina was sitting in an armchair, Emma’s head in her lap. Everyone was clustered around the fireplace and the coffee table.

  
Kit sighed in relief, the tiny knot of worry in his stomach beginning to unravel.

  
“I mean I was seriously freaked out when Magnus-” Kit had gotten a good look at the coffee table and what- who- was on it.

  
Livvy lay with her hands dangling limply at her sides. Her brown hair was curling around her shoulders and wet with blood. Kit could see the ragged edges of a hole in her chest. She wasn’t moving.

  
A quiet calm settled over him. It all made sense. Aline’s glances tinged with sadness, the way everyone in the room seemed to cling to each other in silent grief, even the way Julian sat leaning against the couch.

  
Kit’s ears rang. He saw Ty sitting by the coffee table gripping Livvy’s cold dead hand, as if he could will life back into her fragile corpse. Everything seemed so very far away. It was as if a fist had closed over his heart and was slowly squeezing the life from him.

  
Images came unbidden to him. Livvy with her saber, fighting off a hoard of ancient faerie warriors. Livvy fearlessly walking through the ancient manor with him and Ty. Livvy reassuring Diana that she wasn’t worried about Julian when he and the others had gone into faerie. Livvy, protector, warrior, friend, gone.

  
A part of Kit didn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. But he couldn’t deny what he was seeing, and that was a dead girl on a coffee table surrounded by her family.

  
“Well.” He said at last. He could feel himself retreating, slipping into an indifferent shell. _I didn’t even know her that long, maybe a week? It doesn’t matter._ He thought, already trying to close himself to the pain. “That does put a damper on things.”

  
Even as the words came out of his mouth he knew they were cruel. He tried for an arrogant smile. _It doesn’t matter._ He would smile, he would laugh, he would act like her death didn’t matter. Maybe it wouldn’t if he pretended long and hard enough.

  
The Blackthorns all wore identical expressions of disbelief mingled with anger. Ty’s mouth was opened slightly in shock. With a jolt Kit realized tears had streaked Ty’s cheeks.

  
Julian was on his feet in an instant. The older boy glowered down at him. _Maybe he’ll kill me._ Kit thought. _Maybe I’ll let him._ Julian was shaking with rage and sadness. He gripped Kit’s collar and leaned down to mutter in Kit’s ear.

  
“You ever mention her again I’ll make you wish you were in her place.” Julian’s voice was contained. Kit didn’t have trouble believing Julian would make good on his promises. His heart gave a nervous patter. This wasn’t the Julian he’d observed. This was a new Julian, carved from loss and war.

  
Kit walked to the door, trying to exude ease. He turned and gave a mock bow to Julian. “As you were.”

He knew the words were unfair. He knew they wouldn’t help, but at the moment he didn’t care. He spared a glance at Ty, he was focused entirely on his twins body, deliberately ignoring Kit. _Good_.

  
With a last, what he hoped was mocking smile, Kit closed the doors behind him and ran.

  
He ran as fast as he could. Away from the room where Livvy’s corpse waited to be buried. Away from the grief filled Blackthorns. He could feel tears rising up, threatening to choke him.

  
He burst out of the building. He could see the golden clock above him through his tears. _Livvy have you passed through the gates of heaven yet?_

  
Kit didn’t know where he was running. Only that he had to run. He wiped his nose on his sleeve as he began to cry in earnest. He wondered if the residents of Alicante minded a crying boy running along their perfectly cobbled streets. _To hell with them._

  
At some point he left Alicante behind. Clouds gathered on the horizon, bringing the smell of rain with them. Kit ran off the road, stumbling in hollows and slipping on the damp grass.

  
He wasn’t sure how far he went, only that he could no longer see the road or the glass city.

  
He collapsed beneath a copse of trees. The rain began to come down in sheets, drenching him as he lay facing the sky. The very air seemed to be thick with a choking sadness.

  
_I’m truly The Lost Herondale now._


	5. Heronchild?? Kinda?

Matthew heard the gunshots before he saw James. He’d been on the hunt for his parabatai all day, and he’d only thought to check the Devil’s Tavern after he’d heard rumors of a Nephilum shooting drinks out of patrons hands.

  
It appeared that James had been thrown out of the bar. He was leaning against the sooty bricks of an alley and shooting out streetlights. Faint moonlight gilded his dark hair in a soft glow. Matthew gulped and shouted, “Jamie! What’re you doing?"

  
James turned and, with deadly precision, shot the streetlight above Matthew’s head. Sparks peppered his shoulders and he leapt away from the streetlight with a curse. "Bloody hell man, what-” he broke off when he saw the expression on James’ face.

  
His mouth was twisted in anger and sorrow. He looked like he was in the very deep thralls of self pity. Matthew approached warily. “If you’re going to shoot me I would like to remind you that we’re parabatai and I value being alive for what that’s worth.”

  
James lowered the gun and suddenly slumped down, putting his head on his knees. His entire fiery aura vanished in a heartbeat. Matthew knelt by him, placing a hand on the nape of his neck. James smelled like whiskey and sweat had curled his hair into soft ringlets.

  
James used Matthew to stand up, wobbling slightly as he leaned heavily on his shoulder. Matthew had a sneaking suspicion as to why James had chosen to drink himself into a daze and then shoot out streetlights. A sneaking suspicion based on hours of listening to James prattle on about Grace when they were supposed to be studying demon languages.

  
“Grace?” he asked. Jealousy had long ago deserted him, giving way to nothing more than a grim acceptance.

  
James groaned, “She doesn’t want me. My heart has no place for another and it is as though the sun has gone out of my life. What is point Matthew? My life is wasted.”

  
Matthew fought the urge to roll his eyes and failed splendidly. _Herondales_.

“I hate to break this to you Jamie, but you’re only seventeen. It’s not like you’ve had much of a life to waste.”

James fell into a sullen silence as the Institute loomed in front of them. Matthew pushed open the heavy front doors and dragged James up the stairs, wincing at each loud footstep that made the steps creak. He didn’t want to wake up the rest of the house just yet.

  
James crawled under the covers of his four poster. Matthew seized his feet and yanked off his shoes before James could get mud on the pristine sheets. _Whither thou goest I will go. Whenever thouest get blackout drunk and need a nursemaid I shall tend to your stupid arse._ He thought with a twinge of amusement.

  
Matthew snatched a book from the nightstand and flung himself down next to James’ prone body. He cleared his throat and began to read, letting his voice carry into James’ dreams.

  
_“Two crowned Kings, and One that stood aloneWith no green weight of laurels round his head,But with sad eyes as one uncomforted…”_


	6. Kitty’s First Date

“Wait you’ve never been to the zoo?” Kit stared at Ty incredulously over a bowl of cereal. Ty shook his head. “I know what going to the zoo entails, but I’ve never actually been.” He pushed his cheerios around, the silver spoon making a faint clicking sound on his bowl.

Kit stood up, seized by a sudden urge. “We’re going.”

Ty stared at his shoulder. “We are?”

Kit gulped. “Yeah…like a date…you know…um…” He scratched the back of his head. “We’ve never been on a real date.”

Ty’s eyebrows furrowed. “We went to that shitty pizza place that one time after a demon scouting expedition.”

Kit groaned. “Emphasis on _shitty pizza place_ , come on you’ll love the zoo.” Ty rolled his eyes, but he was beginning to smile. Kit’s heart pattered. That smile would be the death of him.

They got into the zoo around 11:30. Ty had wanted to go in glamoured so they wouldn’t have to pay the fee, but Kit had won the argument by telling him about the ice cream that they wouldn’t be able to get glamoured. Ty hadn’t wanted Kit to go back to his old habit of stealing.

“So where to?” Kit asked Ty as they looked at one of the maps. Ty’s finger traced over the little drawings of animals.

“The African Savanna?” He asked uncertainly. _These shadowhunters are so confident when they have to murder someone, but at the zoo they’re hopeless._ Kit thought.

“Sounds great!” Kit exclaimed, and they made their way to the exhibits.

With some rare ability Ty managed to keep them away from the majority of the crowds. He seemed fascinated by every animal they saw. Kit for his part was content to just stare at Ty as he read the facts that were mounted on plaques next to the exhibits. Sometimes Ty would state another fact that wasn’t on the plaques because he’d made a late night Wikipedia search, or sometimes he’d rant about a certain animal’s eating habits long after they’d left an exhibit behind.

“Did you know that a bald eagle can see for up to two miles?” Ty said excitedly as Kit ordered burgers for them. “And they can dive at up to two hundred miles per hour! Which is determined by how strong their wings are and how streamlined their bodies and feathers are.”

He grabbed both wax paper lined baskets and picked a table for them in the shade underneath a tree. Kit followed with their ice creams. He leaned against his elbows while he munched his fries and listened to Ty talk.

It was a nicely cool day in LA, and Kit was glad he’d chosen this particular day for this particular spontaneous date with this particular boy.

A group of grey haired women sat at the table next to them. Ty went silent and raised his eyebrows at Kit, tilting his head ever so slightly. Time to play their eavesdropping game.

The women were talking about communism and capitalism and the pros and cons of each and which circumstances would destroy economies. Kit almost fell asleep within the first ten seconds of listening. One glance at Ty told him that Ty was as disinterested as he was.

A lull in the women’s conversation brought the comment. “Kids are getting tattoos awful young these days.”

Ty and Kit made abrupt eye contact and Kit stifled a laugh. Ty’s arms were inked up and down with runes and Kit could another peeking out from the edge of his collar. He dropped what was supposed to be a sultry wink at Ty and Ty threw his head back in a giggle.

They hadn’t been to the aquarium so after they finished their ice creams Ty dragged Kit by his shirt to the building. If Kit was being honest with himself he only put up a “struggle” so Ty would keep dragging him.

The aquarium was dark and lit only by blue lights on the floor and the glow from the tanks. Ty’s hand slipped down Kit’s side to clasp his hand. Ty’s fingers were warm. Kit gave a tiny squeeze and watched Ty’s eyes as he observed the fish in quiet, his grey eyes soaking up every detail. Kit didn’t really care about the fish, he only cared about how Ty watched them full of wonder.


	7. Heronstairs soulmate AU

Will traced the name that was branded on the underside of his forearm. The ink stark against his skin. James Carstairs. The words carried a weight that Will didn’t care to quantify.

  
Soulmates were overrated anyways, who was destiny to tell him who to fall in love with?

  
Will tipped back the shot glass, feeling the liquor burn its’ way to his stomach. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting here, but judging by the way the bartender was squinting suspiciously at him, it was probably time for Will to get home.

  
He made his way around the block with staggering steps. _Just my luck that my apartment happens to be on the same block as a bar._ He thought bitterly. A soft breeze blew through the streets, bringing the smell of asphalt, exhaust, and dusty rain.

  
The climb to his apartment was five stories and Will gripped the banister as his head pounded. He was vaguely aware that he was making more noise than was necessary, but he was too drunk to care.

  
The floor outside his apartment was littered with boxes. A sort of haphazard maze. Will made his way through it, fumbling with his keys. He tried and failed to open his door.

  
Someone cleared their throat behind Will. He turned, not sure if he was grateful that someone could open his door for him, or indignant that he needed help.

  
The boy in front of Will eyed him curiously. He had very dark brown hair with a silver streak running through it. _Christ does he dye it?_ Will barked out a laugh and the boy squinted at him.

  
“Exactly how drunk are you?” The boy asked. Will hummed noncommittally.

  
“Hmm, at least one”

  
The boy rolled his eyes, rubbing a palm across his face in exasperation. Will briefly registered that he was carrying a violin case in his other hand.

  
The boy plucked Will’s keys from his hand and deftly opened his apartment for him. Will took the keys back, staring at him in a daze. The boy wiggled his fingers in a half wave. “Goodnight.”

  
Will watched him disappear into the door across the hall. _Weird_. He’d never even gotten the guys’ name.

  
The next day passed in the clutches of a hangover.

  
The next week passed uneventfully. Will didn’t see the boy across the hall again.

  
Around two weeks after Will’s drunken adventure he was starting to wonder if he’d imagined the entire interaction.

  
Will pressed the elevator button, watching the arrow light up white. He took a sip of his coffee and waited as time ticked by.

  
There was a scuffle and the boy from across the hall dashed into the room, visibly letting out a breath of relief when he saw that he hadn’t missed the elevator. His dark hair was rumpled and sticking every which way, and his sweater looked like the softest thing ever made. Will made the conscious decision to touch the boys’ sweater at one point in his life.

  
“Oh thank God I thought I’d imagined you.” Will exclaimed, making the boy jump.

  
“I’m new to the city so I haven’t had much time to make friends.” The boy explained. He had a nice voice, Will hadn’t noticed it before.

  
“Ah, makes sense.” Will said, grinning. “Where’re you off to on this fine day?” The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. Will stepped inside, the boy followed.

  
“Um- I was just going to explore?” It sounded like a question. Will glanced at the other boy, he had his gaze firmly planted on the wall.

  
“I could show you around.” Will supplied, surprising himself. “Give you the proper tourist experience.” Will told himself it was a friendly gesture, one that had nothing to do with the boys’ dark bottomless eyes.

  
The boy turned his head to look at him incredulously. “Really?”

  
Will nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing better to do.” The boy nodded and returned to staring at the wall.

  
Wanting to fill the awkward silence Will said, “The name’s Will by the way- Will Herondale.”

  
The boy made a noise like a small mouse being stepped on. His eyes widened. Will bumped his shoulder playfully, laughing.

  
“James- Jem Carstairs.”

  
Will froze. He could feel his heartbeat thumping along in his chest. _This was James Carstairs?_ He thought he might pass out.

  
The elevator opened and Jem stepped out into the entry hall, dragging Will with him. Will managed to regain some composure, straightening and yanking his arm away from him.

  
They stopped on the steps outside. The sunlight was making Jem’s hair glow. _Not helpful._ Will thought.

  
“I still have to show you around the city.” He said haltingly. Jem still looked shocked.

  
“You still want to do that?”

  
“Um, yeah why wouldn’t I?” Will groaned, stretching. Jem gaped at him.

  
“Because-”

  
“Destiny?” Will grinned at him. Jem rolled his eyes. “Believe me hot stuff, I was planning on asking you out anyway.”

  
As Jem opened and closed his mouth like a fish Will pulled out his phone, checking the time. He glanced at Jem, who was still staring at him. “You want to get breakfast?”

  
“Like a date?” Jem squeaked, he looked terrified.

  
Will smiled at him again. “Yeah, like a date.”


	8. Sophideon

Sophie could feel Gideon’s chest rising and falling behind her as they lay peacefully on their bed. One of his arms was thrown over her waist and his breath stirred the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

  
She sighed, and disentangled herself from his embrace, turning to face him. She’d been waiting for the right time to tell him, ever since Brother Enoch’s visit. Their faces were very close, their noses almost touching.

  
She cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “I wanted to let you know-” she began, and broke off, not sure of how to proceed. Gideon’s eyes crinkled with laughter.

  
“Is this the day where you tell me you’re leaving me for a mundane pirate?” He asked, a teasing edge in his voice. Sophie rolled her eyes.

  
“No! Although now that you mention it…”

  
Gideon chuckled, a huff of his breath stirred Sophie’s hair. She turned to stare at the dark green canopy of their bed. Barely in a whisper she murmured, “I’m pregnant.”

  
She glanced at Gideon. He looked shell shocked. His hazel eyes were wide. Sophie could relate, that was more or less how she felt.

  
She shook him. Her heart was pounding. _Honestly it’s like he’s never heard of pregnancy before._ She thought.

  
Gideon swallowed and nodded. “Okay.” He choked out. Sophie laughed, moving to rest her head on his chest.

  
She’d never imagined that night what was facing them. She would look back on that night as the start of her parenting adventures, a image in the whirlwind of their life’s movie.

  
Sophie would remember Barbara’s first steps and the gurgling laugh she’d given as she traipsed around their living room, Gideon laughing in his big armchair.  
She would remember Eugenia’s birth and the first time Barbara had stared at her baby sister with wide eyes asking why there was another person in the household.

  
Sophie would remember sitting in bed with Gideon and deciding to name their baby boy Thomas after the man who had saved her life years before. She would remember the time when she’d realized the name brought her joy instead of smothering sadness.

  
She would remember a night not a week after Thomas’s first word. She’d been injured in a demon raid and had spent the night with the Silent Brothers, trying to fight the poison out of her system in a fit of nightmares. It was only when Gideon hugged her afterwards that the realization that she would have left her children motherless hit her. It was common among shadowhunters, and she’d been terrified.

  
There were other things too. Watching her children get their first runes. Barbara learning how to hold a broadsword. Eugenia sparring with a staff under the apple tree behind their house. Thomas cutting himself with knives every time he threw one wrong. They were warriors, they would die as warriors.

  
Sophie would look back on all of that and smile. She would cherish the memories that she and Gideon had somehow created in their shared lives. It hadn’t seemed real at first, and it took years before reality sank in. And even as Sophie watched her children age and become warriors of the angel, risking their lives every time they left on a mission, she knew she wouldn’t change it for the world


	9. parent!jessa

“Dad! Look!” Jem turned towards his son. William Carstairs was standing on a chair waving a kitchen knife at imaginary attackers. Jem dropped the ladle back into the pancake batter he was making and, with a rather ungraceful fumble, snatched the knife from his sons hand.

  
Will gave a huff and made a grab for the knife as Jem turned back to the stove. It was almost noon, but breakfast was still underway, and Will wasn’t making it any easier with his love for sharp and pointy objects.

  
Sunlight filtered in through the curtains, filling the kitchen with warm light. Jem ladled batter onto the hot skillet and the room filled with the smell of pancakes.

  
Will jumped off the chair and attached himself to Jem’s leg. Jem ran his fingers through his son’s feather soft dark hair. As the pancake finished cooking Jem added it to the stack he had already made. Balancing a plate of pancakes in one hand and carrying a squirming two year old on his opposite hip, he made his way to the living room where Tessa was sprawled on the couch with the baby on her chest.

  
Her brown hair curled gently over the faded couch cushions in soft waves. Jem knelt by her head and poked her side. She groaned and threw out her arm to playfully hit him. He laughed and lifted baby Jessamine off of Tessa’s chest.

  
“Did you get any sleep last night?” He asked, as Tessa stretched and dug into a pancake.

  
“Define sleep.” she said, grinning with her mouth full. Jem laughed and brushed crumbs from her chin.

  
“Mommy look!” Will exclaimed. He had snatched a picture frame from the bookshelves and was brandishing it very close to Tessa’s nose. She laughed and gently took the photo from him, holding it as though it might slip away at any moment.

  
“Is that Uncle Will?” Jem heard himself make a small choked noise. It still hurt sometimes, knowing that the other half of his soul was gone.

  
Tessa shot him a concerned look and pointed to the photo. In it Will was smiling broadly and holding onto two small children. James and Lucie couldn’t have been much older than Will and Jessamine were now.

  
“Yes, that’s your Uncle Will and that’s your brother and sister James and Lucie.” Tessa murmured. Will looked puzzled.

  
“My brother and sister? Just like Jessie’s my sister?”

  
Jem laughed, dragging himself out of the waters of memory.

“Yes, exactly like that.” He bounced Jessamine gently, the baby let out a contented gurgle.

  
Will began rambling as he stuffed his mouth full of pancake. “I want to meet my brother and sister! We can go to Hyde Park with them! Do you think they’d like feeding ducks with me?”

  
Tessa met Jem’s eyes. She looked amused and sad, Jem assumed he looked the same way. _Ducks?_ He mouthed.

  
They both burst into laughter, Will looked confused.

  
“Maybe not the ducks.” Jem said, ruffling Will’s hair. There’d be plenty of time to explain to Will in the future. Until then…


	10. Short Kieran fic

The faerie courts are full of magic. The magic that makes your hair stand on end. Music that makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a skyscraper and you’re about to jump. The movement out of the corner of your eye that signals your upcoming doom. Faerie magic.

  
The magic of the courts plays tricks on your mind. Tricks that drive you mad overtime as you struggle to grasp the sight of a headless girl dancing. The dress made of feathers that if you look at it out of the corner of your eye you can see birds with their wings sewn together flapping desperately. The streams that glitter like blood one second and like glass the next. The human mind isn’t equipped to deal with faerie.

  
But the courts aren’t as fair to their children either. The youngest prince, who was born of water and with moods just as changing. The youngest prince didn’t know that he was born into a world of illusion. He laughed at the glittering stars, smiled when the grass danced, and slept soundly under the woven canopies of a forest that had claimed much of men’s sanity.

  
The Unseelie King sneered at the youngest prince for his lighthearted kindness, for the king has been on this earth for many a year and he knows the cost of innocence in the court.

  
An elder brother was told to discipline him. Make the laughing boy see that faerie is not a place of stars, but a land born out of the blood of the world.

  
But the elder brother did not love the youngest prince. His father had told him to teach him so he would. Erec took Kieran to revels and showed him how to see through the glamours, to the bones and crazed empty eyes underneath.

  
Erec gave Kieran a horse. The horse was born of the wind and Kieran loved it more than anything. The Unseelie King told Kieran that the horse was silly.

  
And so Kieran grew to trust Erec, showing him the presents that the servants left for him. Erec had never gotten any presents when he was a child.  
Kieran didn’t understand why those servants didn’t show up anymore.

  
The days turned into nightmares. Kieran would wake to his bedsheets burrowing under his toenails, sliding under his skin like another layer of muscle, twisting deep daggers of pain into him. No matter how he thrashed and screamed no one would come, there is no space for weakness in the courts.

  
Glass would shatter into Kieran’s eyes and he’d wander blindly through the forest crying for his big brother. Sometimes he’d find his horse and his horse would be engulfed by grasses that grew eyes and had long hands like blades.

  
It didn’t take long for Kieran to realize that Erec was the one who hated him. Erec was the one who stood by as he drowned in imaginary lakes, Erec who pressed a knife to his throat and told him not to scream because that would make it worse.

  
The Unseelie King told Kieran to stop being ridiculous. Kieran pressed fingers to the long cuts on his arms and told himself that he would be okay. Over and over and over and over. He no longer laughed.

  
Sometimes when Kieran attended revels and spoke with the people Erec got worse. Kieran knew the way of the court by now. He knew he was well loved, perhaps more than his father. It was the only thing that gave him satisfaction when Erec sliced his back open like a meat cut.

  
The little boy who laughed at the stars seemed so far away. Buried in blood and screams and illusion. Sometimes Kieran wondered if he was an illusion too, lost in the whirling eternity of the courts.


End file.
